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Loftegen 3 wrote:I'll take that as fair criticism. The other end of the scale is, "Unimaginably incomprehensible." Which is, at this point, to be what Antifa consider Lady Zaharra to be. I'd also ask you how burning small shops, family businesses, and private dwellings IN ANY WAY advances the cause of "social justice"?

I'm frankly honored to have been thought so important to have been not only responded to, but responded to thrice. It seems my input was stimulating, so I'll try to take my time to respond to all your voluminous thoughts.

Firstly, you're dead right-- if these protestors, which is anyone who conceals their face for medical or criminal reasons (synonymous!!!) in Loftegen ever do so much as scuff the door of the local Walmart (Ysar-get? Zahar-bazaar? (Ohshit Beka-Filet, most oversexualized chicken joint)), they should immediately be suppressed, beaten, then shot, because you can only have freedom of speech when it agrees with the conservative upper and middle class and does not touch up on subjects like inequality, race, mistakes of the system or people in history, or other un-Loftegenian activities. The minor property damage they perpetuate is far worse than the catalyst of these protests, and to teach them that the police aren't brutal and they haven't got it that bad, we should suppress more of them to teach them.

I'm going to have to discard the façade of the adoring fan for a minute because I honestly could not have held it this long and what comes next cannot be legitimately responded to.

Loftegen 3 wrote:Duning-Kreuger, made flesh!But, to have fun...

"Only a Sith deals in absolutes," Lady Zaharra said, igniting her lightsaber

This is an odd message. Firstly:
*Dunning-Kruger
Let that small correction take on a bit of meaning, and now onto the Star Wars reference. I really don't know why I led up to it in the previous sentence, since it makes no goddamn sense where you put it other than show that yes, you have watched Star Wars. I mean, I didn't mention anything about absolutes or even the concept, so it makes no sense. Congrats on watching it though.

Loftegen 3 wrote:Better idea! You have a mother, and father and siblings; not to mention yourself, of course. "As yea judge, so shall yea be judged," Lady Zaharra said. She smiled a cold smile. "Are you ready?" she asked.

Now you're threatening my family. With a fictional character. On a forum game. First, I must say, if circumstances were different, I might've been just slightly intimidated if you had not presented the character as the shining (burning, likely) bastion of delusional Trumpism beliefs. Second, I have to ask:

Are you okay? You're just going to brush this off with another nonsensical jab at the libtard strawman, but I feel like your friends here in Lazarus need to know. I mean, threatening someone's family over-- what exactly? Your anger over an argument? Online? Get some help.

Now, back to the show.

Loftegen 3 wrote:"As yea judge, so shall yea be judged," Lady Zaharra said. She smiled a cold smile. "Are you ready?" she asked.

The pathetic frame of the NSer hunched over their keyboard as Lady Zaharra approached.

"Are you ready?" She asked, staring daggers into the thick and unkempt hair of the degenerate. Her gaze continued unrelentingly as the figure of the NSer fell flat to the floor with a papery flutter. The Lady walked slowly to the site where they fell-- and those daggers she stared into him clattered to the floor as a mere cardboard cutout was revealed to have been her quarry.

"What in the name of..." Zaharra started. Not only would she have not finished that phrase usually, as she was God, but she felt a very powerful presence enter the room. She turned just in time to be clotheslined to the floor.

"Пані, вибачте." Came a voice. Stepping over Zaharra's crumpled body as she recovered into the light, the strong, sexy eyebrow game of Vadimir Bezukhov came into the light. Wearing nothing but a generic pair of sweatpants hung loosely about his waist and carrying no weapons but a mysterious chalice, Bezukhov strode to the end of the room before turning about, revealing his totally jacked dad bod, caked in sweat and splotches of paint.

"You think you're the only one with overly convoluted dialogue and risible omniscience? I've been doing what you think is omniscience ever since my character had an unimportant yet memorable detail in their childhood occur, дурень!"

Zahara finally stood, a look of pure rage on her face as she straightened her hair and dress. "You idiot. I am about to roar down on you, like the wrath of God Himself." She outstretched her hands as if to cast a spell. Vadimir, sensing a scuffle, took a long draw from the chalice he held-- swallowing, he cast the vessel aside, spilling drain cleaner all over the carpeting.

"We shall see." He mumbled. Suddenly, Vadimir was thrown off the carpet and onto the ceiling, which he promptly fell back down again. Zaharra, using some kinda of magic, directed Vadimir around the room with a clatter.

"Your arrogance will be your undoing, Vadimir." Zahaara cackled as she threw Bezukhov into a great value dresser. Rolling to get himself up, Vadimir said only this;

"Please woman, it's Vadim." Vadim flung his hand out and a jet of drain cleaner knocked Saharra off her feet with a shout and back onto the wall. Still lying against the wall, the Lady cast her arm and Vadim followed it, planting his posterior in, then through the dining table set. Saharra used her powers of cherrypicking in conflict to will herself to fly across the room towards the prone body of Vadim.

Vadim reached towards the sink in the kitched, and the doors swung open to allow a flight wing of chemicals to launch across the room. A multi-surface cleaner struck Xaharra on her eye, giving her a black eye upon her already literally black eye. Stopped in her tracks, aahara tore the ceiling down upon Vadim, completely obscuring the shirtless man and filling the room with dust.

"They say hell hath no fury, like a woman scorned," Lady Sahara said. There was a long silence. "Do you want to know what fury looks like?"

There came no response from the rubble, save for the slight chirping of a bird. Stepping closer, Zaharra found that was no bird. It was the ringing of a cell phone.

"It takes a lot to lose me, but when you do, I'm gone and I'm never coming back." Came a whisper that seemed to emanate from every corner of the building.

"What?" Asked the rubble and Zaharra simultaneously, both very perplexed with the meaning of those words which were cool in some context somewhere, but felt entirely out of place because the person writing it wanted to feel cool. Daniel Ryan, his shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up exposing his steaming, well-defined abs and totally jacked biceps, came from the hole made in the roof too quickly for the over-dilated eyes of Aaraha to react. Catching a ledge of the former ceiling on his descent, Ryan locked his juicy thighs around the Madam's neck, swung this way, then thataway, before swinging like a pendulum and casting Zaharra's frail body through the nearby wall, bringing a clump of drywall with her to be a pillow.

"We call that the Bodysnatcher back in Arkwell."

Emerging from the rubble with a rumble, Vadim saw Daniel and his face was immediately struck with a goofy grin.

"Danny! Glad you found us! How've you been?" Vadim said gaily.

"Oh, same old, same old. How's the Federal Republic?"

"Complete shambles, as always. So, I'm sorry to hear about the twins. Kinda got sidetracked and never got around to writing anything to you."

"Ah, no worries. They were brats anyways, and liabilities, too. Had to happen sometime."

Vadim murmured in agreement.

"Do you want-- to know what-- fury-- looks like...?" Came a gaunt whisper through the Lady-Zaharra-shaped hole in the wall.

"Now what?" Ryan asked exasperatedly.

But where the Madame Sahara should have lain was nothing but drywall and plaster. That was, until a fiery angel of death emerged from behind the colleagues. Holy hellfire streaked from the eyes of AaharaaZ and balls of pure energy rested in her hands-- a truly scary sight if not for the bloodied nose from being socked five minutes before.

In an instant, neither Ryan nor Bezukhov existed. Not even the air they breathed remained. Until a half-second later, when Vadim spared a single hair of his near-unibrow to Death, who accepted with a blush, and returned to reality. Then Ryan came, after simply flexing and wishing himself back into existence.

aaraha's face was plastered of shock and disbelief as her opponents calmly checked themselves over from their brief visit to death. Ryan was first to start again.

"Anyways--" He said casually, then suddenly swinging up his foot to strike Sahara in the jaw. The witch, with the physique most similar to that of Charles Montgomery Burns, was not fortified enough to withstand the sheer force applied by Ryan's defined calves and was cast aside to the floor like a sock puppet, the flames about her eyes reduced to a light smolder. Vadim took to the offensive, and immediately plowed his foot into sahara's side, putting out the fire.

A knock came at the door, which did not faze Vadim as he pummeled the pathetic sock puppet that lay on the floor, but Ryan decided to walk away from the violence and answer the knock.

"Hello, friends! I'm here to represent Dernel during this Compact-sponsored beating--" Started Ambassador Purgadellhi, taking a tentative step within the door. The door slammed shut straight into the Italian's face, driving a splinter of cartilage into his skull. He dropped dead.

"Angelic Stomp!" Shouted Ryan as he returned from the door, leaping into the air and landing into the stomach of Zahara, who deflated like a blacksmith's bellows.

Vadim, who wished to emulate his colleague, took a step back and hollered, "Operation Grozny!" He subsequently jumped as high as he could and dove, landing all 120 kilograms of his weight sloppily along the wiry frame of the senile old witch.

"Wait-- Wait!" Gasped Zaharra, whose face was beaten, dress torn, and hair rustled. Vadim, intrigued, rolled off of the Lady, allowing her to decompress her lungs. "I was only pretending to hate black people!"

"That's not enough, tovarisch. Надобраніч." Vadim said, rolling back onto the deflated magic woman.

"NOOooo--" Cried the witch.

This message was approved by the Southern Compact.

Aigania, New vedan, Snoodum, Glorious society, and 4 othersDernel, Northern Rosary Isles, Loftegen 3, and Peachie

Cossack Peoples wrote:I'm frankly honored to have been thought so important to have been not only responded to, but responded to thrice. It seems my input was stimulating, so I'll try to take my time to respond to all your voluminous thoughts.

Firstly, you're dead right-- if these protestors, which is anyone who conceals their face for medical or criminal reasons (synonymous!!!) in Loftegen ever do so much as scuff the door of the local Walmart (Ysar-get? Zahar-bazaar? (Ohshit Beka-Filet, most oversexualized chicken joint)), they should immediately be suppressed, beaten, then shot, because you can only have freedom of speech when it agrees with the conservative upper and middle class and does not touch up on subjects like inequality, race, mistakes of the system or people in history, or other un-Loftegenian activities. The minor property damage they perpetuate is far worse than the catalyst of these protests, and to teach them that the police aren't brutal and they haven't got it that bad, we should suppress more of them to teach them.

I'm going to have to discard the façade of the adoring fan for a minute because I honestly could not have held it this long and what comes next cannot be legitimately responded to.

This is an odd message. Firstly:
*Dunning-Kruger
Let that small correction take on a bit of meaning, and now onto the Star Wars reference. I really don't know why I led up to it in the previous sentence, since it makes no goddamn sense where you put it other than show that yes, you have watched Star Wars. I mean, I didn't mention anything about absolutes or even the concept, so it makes no sense. Congrats on watching it though.

Now you're threatening my family. With a fictional character. On a forum game. First, I must say, if circumstances were different, I might've been just slightly intimidated if you had not presented the character as the shining (burning, likely) bastion of delusional Trumpism beliefs. Second, I have to ask:

Are you okay? You're just going to brush this off with another nonsensical jab at the libtard strawman, but I feel like your friends here in Lazarus need to know. I mean, threatening someone's family over-- what exactly? Your anger over an argument? Online? Get some help.

Now, back to the show.

The pathetic frame of the NSer hunched over their keyboard as Lady Zaharra approached.

"Are you ready?" She asked, staring daggers into the thick and unkempt hair of the degenerate. Her gaze continued unrelentingly as the figure of the NSer fell flat to the floor with a papery flutter. The Lady walked slowly to the site where they fell-- and those daggers she stared into him clattered to the floor as a mere cardboard cutout was revealed to have been her quarry.

"What in the name of..." Zaharra started. Not only would she have not finished that phrase usually, as she was God, but she felt a very powerful presence enter the room. She turned just in time to be clotheslined to the floor.

"Пані, вибачте." Came a voice. Stepping over Zaharra's crumpled body as she recovered into the light, the strong, sexy eyebrow game of Vadimir Bezukhov came into the light. Wearing nothing but a generic pair of sweatpants hung loosely about his waist and carrying no weapons but a mysterious chalice, Bezukhov strode to the end of the room before turning about, revealing his totally jacked dad bod, caked in sweat and splotches of paint.

"You think you're the only one with overly convoluted dialogue and risible omniscience? I've been doing what you think is omniscience ever since my character had an unimportant yet memorable detail in their childhood occur, дурень!"

Zahara finally stood, a look of pure rage on her face as she straightened her hair and dress. "You idiot. I am about to roar down on you, like the wrath of God Himself." She outstretched her hands as if to cast a spell. Vadimir, sensing a scuffle, took a long draw from the chalice he held-- swallowing, he cast the vessel aside, spilling drain cleaner all over the carpeting.

"We shall see." He mumbled. Suddenly, Vadimir was thrown off the carpet and onto the ceiling, which he promptly fell back down again. Zaharra, using some kinda of magic, directed Vadimir around the room with a clatter.

"Your arrogance will be your undoing, Vadimir." Zahaara cackled as she threw Bezukhov into a great value dresser. Rolling to get himself up, Vadimir said only this;

"Please woman, it's Vadim." Vadim flung his hand out and a jet of drain cleaner knocked Saharra off her feet with a shout and back onto the wall. Still lying against the wall, the Lady cast her arm and Vadim followed it, planting his posterior in, then through the dining table set. Saharra used her powers of cherrypicking in conflict to will herself to fly across the room towards the prone body of Vadim.

Vadim reached towards the sink in the kitched, and the doors swung open to allow a flight wing of chemicals to launch across the room. A multi-surface cleaner struck Xaharra on her eye, giving her a black eye upon her already literally black eye. Stopped in her tracks, aahara tore the ceiling down upon Vadim, completely obscuring the shirtless man and filling the room with dust.

"They say hell hath no fury, like a woman scorned," Lady Sahara said. There was a long silence. "Do you want to know what fury looks like?"

There came no response from the rubble, save for the slight chirping of a bird. Stepping closer, Zaharra found that was no bird. It was the ringing of a cell phone.

"It takes a lot to lose me, but when you do, I'm gone and I'm never coming back." Came a whisper that seemed to emanate from every corner of the building.

"What?" Asked the rubble and Zaharra simultaneously, both very perplexed with the meaning of those words which were cool in some context somewhere, but felt entirely out of place because the person writing it wanted to feel cool. Daniel Ryan, his shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up exposing his steaming, well-defined abs and totally jacked biceps, came from the hole made in the roof too quickly for the over-dilated eyes of Aaraha to react. Catching a ledge of the former ceiling on his descent, Ryan locked his juicy thighs around the Madam's neck, swung this way, then thataway, before swinging like a pendulum and casting Zaharra's frail body through the nearby wall, bringing a clump of drywall with her to be a pillow.

"We call that the Bodysnatcher back in Arkwell."

Emerging from the rubble with a rumble, Vadim saw Daniel and his face was immediately struck with a goofy grin.

"Danny! Glad you found us! How've you been?" Vadim said gaily.

"Oh, same old, same old. How's the Federal Republic?"

"Complete shambles, as always. So, I'm sorry to hear about the twins. Kinda got sidetracked and never got around to writing anything to you."

"Ah, no worries. They were brats anyways, and liabilities, too. Had to happen sometime."

Vadim murmured in agreement.

"Do you want-- to know what-- fury-- looks like...?" Came a gaunt whisper through the Lady-Zaharra-shaped hole in the wall.

"Now what?" Ryan asked exasperatedly.

But where the Madame Sahara should have lain was nothing but drywall and plaster. That was, until a fiery angel of death emerged from behind the colleagues. Holy hellfire streaked from the eyes of AaharaaZ and balls of pure energy rested in her hands-- a truly scary sight if not for the bloodied nose from being socked five minutes before.

In an instant, neither Ryan nor Bezukhov existed. Not even the air they breathed remained. Until a half-second later, when Vadim spared a single hair of his near-unibrow to Death, who accepted with a blush, and returned to reality. Then Ryan came, after simply flexing and wishing himself back into existence.

aaraha's face was plastered of shock and disbelief as her opponents calmly checked themselves over from their brief visit to death. Ryan was first to start again.

"Anyways--" He said casually, then suddenly swinging up his foot to strike Sahara in the jaw. The witch, with the physique most similar to that of Charles Montgomery Burns, was not fortified enough to withstand the sheer force applied by Ryan's defined calves and was cast aside to the floor like a sock puppet, the flames about her eyes reduced to a light smolder. Vadim took to the offensive, and immediately plowed his foot into sahara's side, putting out the fire.

A knock came at the door, which did not faze Vadim as he pummeled the pathetic sock puppet that lay on the floor, but Ryan decided to walk away from the violence and answer the knock.

"Hello, friends! I'm here to represent Dernel during this Compact-sponsored beating--" Started Ambassador Purgadellhi, taking a tentative step within the door. The door slammed shut straight into the Italian's face, driving a splinter of cartilage into his skull. He dropped dead.

"Angelic Stomp!" Shouted Ryan as he returned from the door, leaping into the air and landing into the stomach of Zahara, who deflated like a blacksmith's bellows.

Vadim, who wished to emulate his colleague, took a step back and hollered, "Operation Grozny!" He subsequently jumped as high as he could and dove, landing all 120 kilograms of his weight sloppily along the wiry frame of the senile old witch.

"Wait-- Wait!" Gasped Zaharra, whose face was beaten, dress torn, and hair rustled. Vadim, intrigued, rolled off of the Lady, allowing her to decompress her lungs. "I was only pretending to hate black people!"

"That's not enough, tovarisch. Надобраніч." Vadim said, rolling back onto the deflated magic woman.

"NOOooo--" Cried the witch.

"
This message was approved by the Southern Compact.

Read this, his anger, has made him powerful!"[/q]

New vedan

Loftegen 3

[/spoilerhis message was approved by the Southern Compact.[/quote}
, Dude

Cossack Peoples wrote:I'm frankly honored to have been thought so important to have been not only responded to, but responded to thrice. It seems my input was stimulating, so I'll try to take my time to respond to all your voluminous thoughts.

Firstly, you're dead right-- if these protestors, which is anyone who conceals their face for medical or criminal reasons (synonymous!!!) in Loftegen ever do so much as scuff the door of the local Walmart (Ysar-get? Zahar-bazaar? (Ohshit Beka-Filet, most oversexualized chicken joint)), they should immediately be suppressed, beaten, then shot, because you can only have freedom of speech when it agrees with the conservative upper and middle class and does not touch up on subjects like inequality, race, mistakes of the system or people in history, or other un-Loftegenian activities. The minor property damage they perpetuate is far worse than the catalyst of these protests, and to teach them that the police aren't brutal and they haven't got it that bad, we should suppress more of them to teach them.

I'm going to have to discard the façade of the adoring fan for a minute because I honestly could not have held it this long and what comes next cannot be legitimately responded to.

This is an odd message. Firstly:
*Dunning-Kruger
Let that small correction take on a bit of meaning, and now onto the Star Wars reference. I really don't know why I led up to it in the previous sentence, since it makes no goddamn sense where you put it other than show that yes, you have watched Star Wars. I mean, I didn't mention anything about absolutes or even the concept, so it makes no sense. Congrats on watching it though.

Now you're threatening my family. With a fictional character. On a forum game. First, I must say, if circumstances were different, I might've been just slightly intimidated if you had not presented the character as the shining (burning, likely) bastion of delusional Trumpism beliefs. Second, I have to ask:

Are you okay? You're just going to brush this off with another nonsensical jab at the libtard strawman, but I feel like your friends here in Lazarus need to know. I mean, threatening someone's family over-- what exactly? Your anger over an argument? Online? Get some help.

Now, back to the show.

The pathetic frame of the NSer hunched over their keyboard as Lady Zaharra approached.

"Are you ready?" She asked, staring daggers into the thick and unkempt hair of the degenerate. Her gaze continued unrelentingly as the figure of the NSer fell flat to the floor with a papery flutter. The Lady walked slowly to the site where they fell-- and those daggers she stared into him clattered to the floor as a mere cardboard cutout was revealed to have been her quarry.

"What in the name of..." Zaharra started. Not only would she have not finished that phrase usually, as she was God, but she felt a very powerful presence enter the room. She turned just in time to be clotheslined to the floor.

"Пані, вибачте." Came a voice. Stepping over Zaharra's crumpled body as she recovered into the light, the strong, sexy eyebrow game of Vadimir Bezukhov came into the light. Wearing nothing but a generic pair of sweatpants hung loosely about his waist and carrying no weapons but a mysterious chalice, Bezukhov strode to the end of the room before turning about, revealing his totally jacked dad bod, caked in sweat and splotches of paint.

"You think you're the only one with overly convoluted dialogue and risible omniscience? I've been doing what you think is omniscience ever since my character had an unimportant yet memorable detail in their childhood occur, дурень!"

Zahara finally stood, a look of pure rage on her face as she straightened her hair and dress. "You idiot. I am about to roar down on you, like the wrath of God Himself." She outstretched her hands as if to cast a spell. Vadimir, sensing a scuffle, took a long draw from the chalice he held-- swallowing, he cast the vessel aside, spilling drain cleaner all over the carpeting.

"We shall see." He mumbled. Suddenly, Vadimir was thrown off the carpet and onto the ceiling, which he promptly fell back down again. Zaharra, using some kinda of magic, directed Vadimir around the room with a clatter.

"Your arrogance will be your undoing, Vadimir." Zahaara cackled as she threw Bezukhov into a great value dresser. Rolling to get himself up, Vadimir said only this;

"Please woman, it's Vadim." Vadim flung his hand out and a jet of drain cleaner knocked Saharra off her feet with a shout and back onto the wall. Still lying against the wall, the Lady cast her arm and Vadim followed it, planting his posterior in, then through the dining table set. Saharra used her powers of cherrypicking in conflict to will herself to fly across the room towards the prone body of Vadim.

Vadim reached towards the sink in the kitched, and the doors swung open to allow a flight wing of chemicals to launch across the room. A multi-surface cleaner struck Xaharra on her eye, giving her a black eye upon her already literally black eye. Stopped in her tracks, aahara tore the ceiling down upon Vadim, completely obscuring the shirtless man and filling the room with dust.

"They say hell hath no fury, like a woman scorned," Lady Sahara said. There was a long silence. "Do you want to know what fury looks like?"

There came no response from the rubble, save for the slight chirping of a bird. Stepping closer, Zaharra found that was no bird. It was the ringing of a cell phone.

"It takes a lot to lose me, but when you do, I'm gone and I'm never coming back." Came a whisper that seemed to emanate from every corner of the building.

"What?" Asked the rubble and Zaharra simultaneously, both very perplexed with the meaning of those words which were cool in some context somewhere, but felt entirely out of place because the person writing it wanted to feel cool. Daniel Ryan, his shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up exposing his steaming, well-defined abs and totally jacked biceps, came from the hole made in the roof too quickly for the over-dilated eyes of Aaraha to react. Catching a ledge of the former ceiling on his descent, Ryan locked his juicy thighs around the Madam's neck, swung this way, then thataway, before swinging like a pendulum and casting Zaharra's frail body through the nearby wall, bringing a clump of drywall with her to be a pillow.

"We call that the Bodysnatcher back in Arkwell."

Emerging from the rubble with a rumble, Vadim saw Daniel and his face was immediately struck with a goofy grin.

"Danny! Glad you found us! How've you been?" Vadim said gaily.

"Oh, same old, same old. How's the Federal Republic?"

"Complete shambles, as always. So, I'm sorry to hear about the twins. Kinda got sidetracked and never got around to writing anything to you."

"Ah, no worries. They were brats anyways, and liabilities, too. Had to happen sometime."

Vadim murmured in agreement.

"Do you want-- to know what-- fury-- looks like...?" Came a gaunt whisper through the Lady-Zaharra-shaped hole in the wall.

"Now what?" Ryan asked exasperatedly.

But where the Madame Sahara should have lain was nothing but drywall and plaster. That was, until a fiery angel of death emerged from behind the colleagues. Holy hellfire streaked from the eyes of AaharaaZ and balls of pure energy rested in her hands-- a truly scary sight if not for the bloodied nose from being socked five minutes before.

In an instant, neither Ryan nor Bezukhov existed. Not even the air they breathed remained. Until a half-second later, when Vadim spared a single hair of his near-unibrow to Death, who accepted with a blush, and returned to reality. Then Ryan came, after simply flexing and wishing himself back into existence.

aaraha's face was plastered of shock and disbelief as her opponents calmly checked themselves over from their brief visit to death. Ryan was first to start again.

"Anyways--" He said casually, then suddenly swinging up his foot to strike Sahara in the jaw. The witch, with the physique most similar to that of Charles Montgomery Burns, was not fortified enough to withstand the sheer force applied by Ryan's defined calves and was cast aside to the floor like a sock puppet, the flames about her eyes reduced to a light smolder. Vadim took to the offensive, and immediately plowed his foot into sahara's side, putting out the fire.

A knock came at the door, which did not faze Vadim as he pummeled the pathetic sock puppet that lay on the floor, but Ryan decided to walk away from the violence and answer the knock.

"Hello, friends! I'm here to represent Dernel during this Compact-sponsored beating--" Started Ambassador Purgadellhi, taking a tentative step within the door. The door slammed shut straight into the Italian's face, driving a splinter of cartilage into his skull. He dropped dead.

"Angelic Stomp!" Shouted Ryan as he returned from the door, leaping into the air and landing into the stomach of Zahara, who deflated like a blacksmith's bellows.

Vadim, who wished to emulate his colleague, took a step back and hollered, "Operation Grozny!" He subsequently jumped as high as he could and dove, landing all 120 kilograms of his weight sloppily along the wiry frame of the senile old witch.

"Wait-- Wait!" Gasped Zaharra, whose face was beaten, dress torn, and hair rustled. Vadim, intrigued, rolled off of the Lady, allowing her to decompress her lungs. "I was only pretending to hate black people!"

"That's not enough, tovarisch. Надобраніч." Vadim said, rolling back onto the deflated magic woman.

"NOOooo--" Cried the witch.

This message was approved by the Southern Compact.

"Claiming I threatened your family." That's low even for you. You know you're insignificant to me. You don't matter at all. Yet, you entertain this belief that I'm obsessed with you.

Congratulations Lenzum on having the highest car manufacturing sector in Lazarus!

Peachie

Tubbius the Rotund is puzzled by the above stuff. He mmphs a request to politely take the concerns raised to Telegrams if necessary or, if not, to try to simply ignore or not interact with one another. Please do not turn the RMB into a battleground.

Sad mmph mmphs come in abundance.

Mzeusia, Loftegen 3, and Peachie

Peachie wrote:The way I eat ice cream—it wouldn’t last long enough.

His Immensity mmphs jolly agreement. Her Gravidity hrms in solidarity with Him while She calls palace servants about getting more ice cream. She blames Her eternal feelings of late pregnancy brought on by Tubbius Magic for this craving. His Obesity chuckles and jiggles at this declaration, poking Her tummy and saying that She has a convenient excuse.

Peachie

Im back! From outer space!

Fiveholm wrote:Im back! From outer space!

Welcome! Did you see Sandra the alien? I wanted to give her something.

If I gave you your NS flag and a flagpole, would you fly your flag IRL? How much would it take for you to do that?

Treadwellia and Snoodum

Mzeusia wrote:If I gave you your NS flag and a flagpole, would you fly your flag IRL? How much would it take for you to do that?

Ooooo. Tubby on a flag?

Mzeusia

Important announcement:

Feeling like getting in the groove and swinging those hips to the beat? Want to show off those moves for that special Lazarene guy or gal? Get on the dance floor on the RMB. A disco will be held From the 12th August to the 20th of August where you can post links to and discuss your favourite music, as well as dance the night away. Snacks will be provided and if you have any questions, let me know.

Cossack Peoples wrote:
I'm frankly honored to have been thought so important to have been not only responded to, but responded to thrice. It seems my input was stimulating, so I'll try to take my time to respond to all your voluminous thoughts.

Firstly, you're dead right-- if these protestors, which is anyone who conceals their face for medical or criminal reasons (synonymous!!!) in Loftegen ever do so much as scuff the door of the local Walmart (Ysar-get? Zahar-bazaar? (Ohshit Beka-Filet, most oversexualized chicken joint)), they should immediately be suppressed, beaten, then shot, because you can only have freedom of speech when it agrees with the conservative upper and middle class and does not touch up on subjects like inequality, race, mistakes of the system or people in history, or other un-Loftegenian activities. The minor property damage they perpetuate is far worse than the catalyst of these protests, and to teach them that the police aren't brutal and they haven't got it that bad, we should suppress more of them to teach them.

I'm going to have to discard the façade of the adoring fan for a minute because I honestly could not have held it this long and what comes next cannot be legitimately responded to.

This is an odd message. Firstly:
*Dunning-Kruger
Let that small correction take on a bit of meaning, and now onto the Star Wars reference. I really don't know why I led up to it in the previous sentence, since it makes no goddamn sense where you put it other than show that yes, you have watched Star Wars. I mean, I didn't mention anything about absolutes or even the concept, so it makes no sense. Congrats on watching it though.

Now you're threatening my family. With a fictional character. On a forum game. First, I must say, if circumstances were different, I might've been just slightly intimidated if you had not presented the character as the shining (burning, likely) bastion of delusional Trumpism beliefs. Second, I have to ask:

Are you okay? You're just going to brush this off with another nonsensical jab at the libtard strawman, but I feel like your friends here in Lazarus need to know. I mean, threatening someone's family over-- what exactly? Your anger over an argument? Online? Get some help.

Now, back to the show.

[spoiler=This is 100% IC btw]The pathetic frame of the NSer hunched over their keyboard as Lady Zaharra approached.

"Are you ready?" She asked, staring daggers into the thick and unkempt hair of the degenerate. Her gaze continued unrelentingly as the figure of the NSer fell flat to the floor with a papery flutter. The Lady walked slowly to the site where they fell-- and those daggers she stared into him clattered to the floor as a mere cardboard cutout was revealed to have been her quarry.

"What in the name of..." Zaharra started. Not only would she have not finished that phrase usually, as she was God, but she felt a very powerful presence enter the room. She turned just in time to be clotheslined to the floor.

"Пані, вибачте." Came a voice. Stepping over Zaharra's crumpled body as she recovered into the light, the strong, sexy eyebrow game of Vadimir Bezukhov came into the light. Wearing nothing but a generic pair of sweatpants hung loosely about his waist and carrying no weapons but a mysterious chalice, Bezukhov strode to the end of the room before turning about, revealing his totally jacked dad bod, caked in sweat and splotches of paint.

"You think you're the only one with overly convoluted dialogue and risible omniscience? I've been doing what you think is omniscience ever since my character had an unimportant yet memorable detail in their childhood occur, дурень!"

Zahara finally stood, a look of pure rage on her face as she straightened her hair and dress. "You idiot. I am about to roar down on you, like the wrath of God Himself." She outstretched her hands as if to cast a spell. Vadimir, sensing a scuffle, took a long draw from the chalice he held-- swallowing, he cast the vessel aside, spilling drain cleaner all over the carpeting.

"We shall see." He mumbled. Suddenly, Vadimir was thrown off the carpet and onto the ceiling, which he promptly fell back down again. Zaharra, using some kinda of magic, directed Vadimir around the room with a clatter.

"Your arrogance will be your undoing, Vadimir." Zahaara cackled as she threw Bezukhov into a great value dresser. Rolling to get himself up, Vadimir said only this;

"Please woman, it's Vadim." Vadim flung his hand out and a jet of drain cleaner knocked Saharra off her feet with a shout and back onto the wall. Still lying against the wall, the Lady cast her arm and Vadim followed it, planting his posterior in, then through the dining table set. Saharra used her powers of cherrypicking in conflict to will herself to fly across the room towards the prone body of Vadim.

Vadim reached towards the sink in the kitched, and the doors swung open to allow a flight wing of chemicals to launch across the room. A multi-surface cleaner struck Xaharra on her eye, giving her a black eye upon her already literally black eye. Stopped in her tracks, aahara tore the ceiling down upon Vadim, completely obscuring the shirtless man and filling the room with dust.

"They say hell hath no fury, like a woman scorned," Lady Sahara said. There was a long silence. "Do you want to know what fury looks like?"

There came no response from the rubble, save for the slight chirping of a bird. Stepping closer, Zaharra found that was no bird. It was the ringing of a cell phone.

"It takes a lot to lose me, but when you do, I'm gone and I'm never coming back." Came a whisper that seemed to emanate from every corner of the building.

"What?" Asked the rubble and Zaharra simultaneously, both very perplexed with the meaning of those words which were cool in some context somewhere, but felt entirely out of place because the person writing it wanted to feel cool. Daniel Ryan, his shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up exposing his steaming, well-defined abs and totally jacked biceps, came from the hole made in the roof too quickly for the over-dilated eyes of Aaraha to react. Catching a ledge of the former ceiling on his descent, Ryan locked his juicy thighs around the Madam's neck, swung this way, then thataway, before swinging like a pendulum and casting Zaharra's frail body through the nearby wall, bringing a clump of drywall with her to be a pillow.

"We call that the Bodysnatcher back in Arkwell."

Emerging from the rubble with a rumble, Vadim saw Daniel and his face was immediately struck with a goofy grin.

"Danny! Glad you found us! How've you been?" Vadim said gaily.

"Oh, same old, same old. How's the Federal Republic?"

"Complete shambles, as always. So, I'm sorry to hear about the twins. Kinda got sidetracked and never got around to writing anything to you."

"Ah, no worries. They were brats anyways, and liabilities, too. Had to happen sometime."

Vadim murmured in agreement.

"Do you want-- to know what-- fury-- looks like...?" Came a gaunt whisper through the Lady-Zaharra-shaped hole in the wall.

"Now what?" Ryan asked exasperatedly.

But where the Madame Sahara should have lain was nothing but drywall and plaster. That was, until a fiery angel of death emerged from behind the colleagues. Holy hellfire streaked from the eyes of AaharaaZ and balls of pure energy rested in her hands-- a truly scary sight if not for the bloodied nose from being socked five minutes before.

In an instant, neither Ryan nor Bezukhov existed. Not even the air they breathed remained. Until a half-second later, when Vadim spared a single hair of his near-unibrow to Death, who accepted with a blush, and returned to reality. Then Ryan came, after simply flexing and wishing himself back into existence.

aaraha's face was plastered of shock and disbelief as her opponents calmly checked themselves over from their brief visit to death. Ryan was first to start again.

"Anyways--" He said casually, then suddenly swinging up his foot to strike Sahara in the jaw. The witch, with the physique most similar to that of Charles Montgomery Burns, was not fortified enough to withstand the sheer force applied by Ryan's defined calves and was cast aside to the floor like a sock puppet, the flames about her eyes reduced to a light smolder. Vadim took to the offensive, and immediately plowed his foot into sahara's side, putting out the fire.

A knock came at the door, which did not faze Vadim as he pummeled the pathetic sock puppet that lay on the floor, but Ryan decided to walk away from the violence and answer the knock.

"Hello, friends! I'm here to represent Dernel during this Compact-sponsored beating--" Started Ambassador Purgadellhi, taking a tentative step within the door. The door slammed shut straight into the Italian's face, driving a splinter of cartilage into his skull. He dropped dead.

"Angelic Stomp!" Shouted Ryan as he returned from the door, leaping into the air and landing into the stomach of Zahara, who deflated like a blacksmith's bellows.

Vadim, who wished to emulate his colleague, took a step back and hollered, "Operation Grozny!" He subsequently jumped as high as he could and dove, landing all 120 kilograms of his weight sloppily along the wiry frame of the senile old witch.

"Wait-- Wait!" Gasped Zaharra, whose face was beaten, dress torn, and hair rustled. Vadim, intrigued, rolled off of the Lady, allowing her to decompress her lungs. "I was only pretending to hate black people!"

"That's not enough, tovarisch. Надобраніч." Vadim said, rolling back onto the deflated magic woman.

"NOOooo--" Cried the witch.

This message was approved by the Southern Compact.[/spoiler]

What in Lucernas name did I just read?

Aigania and Glorious society

New vedan wrote:What in Lucernas name did I just read?

Something that's been a long time coming.

Leticia Grenkin, full up on kale and almonds was taking shelter under the shade of the conning tower, when a shout came from the top of that structure. "We've got company! Starboard side!"

Leticia staggered to her feet, rushing out onto the deck. The calm water and gentle sky of the waters south of Thule, showed her nothing, but then another cry went up. "Port side! I meant port side!"

Turning around, Leticia proceeded to join the mass of hippies flocking to the port side of the ship. Many wear yelling and pointing, but one man broke down. "I can't see anything! I must be blind!"

He was mostly ignored, for there in the waves, clinging on to a piece of driftwood was the limp figure of a woman. "Go get him!" someone screamed.

"You misgendered her!" another hippie yelled. Perhaps they engaged in this verbal duel so as to not do any of the work that saving her would involve, Truth be told, not many hippies had cared about learning the proper safety procedures. They had been far too busy munching on kale and smoking mysterious substances to bother with any of that, but, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, even though the vessel was filled with people neither skilled in operating the military vessel, nor always in control of their actions, accidents had not occurred. The older hippies, who had been hippies for a longer time, stood there unable to do anything. The more recent hippies, who had spent more of their lives in the non-hippie world, stepped up to the plate. A couple of them had experience with rescue at sea, and they sprang into action. While the ship was never going to perform the Anderson Manoeuvre, a rescue boat was deployed. It wasn't long before the sprawled woman was laid out on the deck.

"She'll get a shock when she wakes up." Leticia thought.

New vedan, Snoodum, and Cossack Peoples

Loftegen 3 wrote: [/spoilerhis message was approved by the Southern Compact.[/quote}
, Dude
"Claiming I threatened your family." That's low even for you. You know you're insignificant to me. You don't matter at all. Yet, you entertain this belief that I'm obsessed with you.

Then why do you respond?

Glorious society

New vedan wrote:What in Lucernas name did I just read?

beauty in its truest form

Glorious society wrote:beauty in its truest form

VIRGIN Toxicity of Lady Sahara vs CHAD Platonic Friendship of Vadim and Danny

Aigania, Glorious society, Dernel, and The centrucian empire

Mzeusia wrote:Important announcement:

Feeling like getting in the groove and swinging those hips to the beat? Want to show off those moves for that special Lazarene guy or gal? Get on the dance floor on the RMB. A disco will be held From the 12th August to the 20th of August where you can post links to and discuss your favourite music, as well as dance the night away. Snacks will be provided and if you have any questions, let me know.

Will there be enough snacks for Tubbius?

Peachie

Treadwellia wrote:Will there be enough snacks for Tubbius?

Of course! It would be criminal not to have enough.

Treadwellia and Peachie

I've decided to start a short RP series called Ordinary Mzeusians. It probably won't be more than ten posts long. Most of the RP is focused on leaders of nations, but leaders alone do not a nation make. The people are who really count, with all their diversity, characteristics, commonalities and experiences. So, without further ado, let me introduce you to Stephanus Gloukakis.

The sky of Klaksis was just filling with pink as Stephanus knelt by the door to tie his laces. His hands, still with their youthful spryness, clutched both stands of shoe lace. If there wasn't a baby crying in the other room, the clacking of the aglets against the side of the shoes may have reached Stephanus's ears, but the Gloukakis Household was often to noisy for these quieter sounds of life to be observed. Having tied the laces, Stephanus stood, reached for the door, and tugged it open. He stepped outside, breathing through his nose the cool morning air of the Mzeusian town. He looked around before making his way to the bus stop.

Five minutes went by, looking for the five minutes that had already been. A bus pulled up, and Stephanus got on. He paid the fair, and took his favourite seat on the second floor, in the middle. At this time of day, the bus was near empty and Stephanus easily got the window seat he had been wanting. Then with a hiss that signalled the closing of the doors, and the jolt as the bus resumed its route, the bus moved away from the station. As the journey commenced, Stephanus watched the town's houses, shops and parks drift by. A couple was walking down Arket Street, arm in arm. A cluster of birds drank at a birdbath in one of the gardens, and a jogger stood on a street corner panting and looking through the bakery window.

The electric sign on the bus told Stephanus that they were coming to Elsyin Way, his stop. He didn't need to read the sign, being already very familiar with this area, but he read it every time all the same. Hopping of the bus, Stepanhus crossed the road, finding his way to the local running track. On the holidays, from Monday to Friday, Stephanus ran here. Entering the building, he got a smile from the receptionist, and they exchanged greetings. They had come to know each other quite well over the year or so Stephanus had been running.

He inserted his card in the turnstile and pushed the bar aside. It wasn't long before he stepped onto the track. He took another deep breath, completed a few stretches, and walked over to the starting position. He closed his eyes, counted himself in, and sprang upwards, breathing diaphragmatically and settling into the rhythm he knew so well. Running along the inside lane, he ran several laps. In the heart of Klaksis, Stephanus ran, round, round and round again. With the swoosh of a busying motorway, and the wind rushing by his ears, he let out a smile, turning his run to a sprint as he crossed the finish line one more time.

The centrucian empire and Peachie

CITIZENS OF LAZARUS

YOUR COURT SYSTEM IS IN JEOPARDY OF BECOMING CORRUPT.

VOTE NAY HERE AT:

https://www.nslazarus.com/thread-1579-page-2.html


Section 1. Amendment of the Twelfth Mandate of Lazarus

(1) The relevant section of Article V. of the Twelfth Mandate of Lazarus as currently written, reads:

"Justices will serve until resignation, removal from office by the Assembly, or automatic removal from office. Justices may not serve in any other office while serving as Justices."

(2) The amended section of Article V. of the Twelfth Mandate of Lazarus shall read:

"Justices will serve until resignation, removal from office by the Assembly, or automatic removal from office."

a) It creates a conflict of interest.
b) A Justice will be partial and in possession of privileged information.
c) The proposal opens up a possibility of abuse of power by public officials.
d) It is unethical.

Bongrovia, Ashoy, and La Xinga

The centrucian empire

I'm not normally active within regions and I feel like I should be, a lot goes on.

(My NS News, LinkThis is the real one.)

NS News, mostly daily!

NUMBER OF NATIONS NEWS:

  • Chicken Overlords has now beat Lazarus in Number of Nations, making them in the top 3, edging onto TEP.

  • TRR has beat TWP in Number of Nations, making TWP the lowest feeder region, not including warzones.

  • "Devide by Zero" has now become once again bigger the Artificial Solar System.

  • The free society of Tic Tacs lost more than 1K nations today!

  • The region Bawkie, a card farming region for one person, has so many card farming puppets that it's the 21st biggest region!

R/D NEWS:

FORUM NEWS:

WA NEWS:

  • In the GA, Integrity in Law Enforcement was passed 11,267 votes to 4,259.

  • In the SC, Commend Nuremgard was passed 8,944 votes to 4,316.

  • In the GA, 'Repeal "Wartime Journalism Protection Act"' is up for the vote. It is ranked LIKELY FOR.

  • In the SC, 'Commend Wallenburg' is up for vote. It is ranked LEANS FOR.

OTHER NEWS:

Railroad crossing
Mon Island
Xeosia later
Boris Cult
The canadian peoples republic
Animu Place
Cowbridge
Cokoland
The Democratic Kingdom Of Skaraborg
Ping me to sub!
Read dispatch

Ze news for NS. Is mostly good news.

Demonos

"This is interesting," Lady Zaharra said. "After you voted to de-fund the police you called them to your house, ten times."

Councilwoman African Name stammered, "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"Yes, of course," Lady Zaharra said, and did.

Treadwellia wrote:Tubbius the Rotund is puzzled by the above stuff. He mmphs a request to politely take the concerns raised to Telegrams if necessary or, if not, to try to simply ignore or not interact with one another. Please do not turn the RMB into a battleground.

Sad mmph mmphs come in abundance.

"Hey, fat boi! Where's that Hard Welsh Coal you promised me?" Lady Z thought for a minute, realized how <bitumnious> she sounded, and slunk off into the darkness.

«12. . .4,0874,0884,0894,0904,0914,0924,093. . .8,7288,729»

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